Loki: Bucky

[moonshadows]

Loki was sparring with Steve when the call came in.

“Gentlemen.” Fury’s voice held a tone of bafflement that brought them both to an instant stop. “We have a...situation...and to be honest, we’d all feel a lot more secure with you two here in case things get messy.”

Steve vaulted easily over the ropes and grabbed his towel. “Where do you need us?”

There was a pause. “Loki, may we use your room?”

Dark eyebrows arched over pale eyes. “If you are asking, then the situation has the potential to be very messy, indeed. You have my permission, Director, and we will meet you there.”

Towel in both hands, Steve gave him a concerned look. “Should I get my suit?”

“If you feel it appropriate,” Loki said slowly, banishing his workout clothes for something more casual. “My deep containment cell is small enough and secure enough that the protection is not strictly necessary, and we do not yet know what sort of situation we will be facing.”

“Good call,” he said with a nod. “Alright then. How do we...?”

Loki vaulted out of the ring and clapped him on the shoulder as if about to share a witty comment.

The gym blurred into the cool, dim cylinder tunneled deep under SHIELD’s headquarters and lined with dense rubber, the highly-secure cell that had been constructed not to contain Loki, but to make him feel secure while giving the appearance of containing him. It did, however, work splendidly to contain beings who did not have magic.

“So this is it,” Steve said, looking around, arms crossed. “Fury built this just for you?”

“Indeed.” Loki looked up at the observation window, but it was empty. “My brother was unable to free himself from it. Whatever this situation is, it no doubt involves a being of enhanced strength.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Steve said, chin jerking at the window where the Director had appeared and was now flipping switches to light up both booth and cell.

“Agent Romanoff has been working a particular case for a while now,” Fury said as guards marched down the stairs. “Hunting down an assassin known as the Winter Soldier. Apparently one of Hydra’s branches snapped up the remnants of Red Skull’s operations and created their own, brainwashed, Russian knockoff of you, Cap. She was lucky enough to overhear the assassin’s handler utter the code phrase that knocked him into a dormant mode, and then obtained what seems to be a manual for his control. He followed her back,” he added dryly as the hydraulics hissed, raising the door panel, “so we kept him.”

Natasha gave them a wry look as she strode into the cell, followed by a man in body armor with a muzzle-like mask covering the lower half of his face. His hair was dark and wild and his eyes, although they didn’t miss a single detail, were dull and uncurious. The guards stayed on the stairs, weapons nervously trained on the obedient assassin until the door hissed back into place.

The Winter Soldier’s left arm had been replaced with a metal prosthetic.

Natasha crossed her arms. “Between his enhanced strength and the metal arm, he’s a one-man wrecking ball. I had him destroy the base I found him in; if I did it right, they’ll think they just lost control of him and he went rogue.” Her normally hard expression softened a little as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “He didn’t say anything, past a curt acknowledgment, the whole time. I know it may be hard to look past the things he’s done, but Steve - he didn’t have a choice. This was forced on him, whoever he is, and he’s a victim.”

“Unless he volunteered for it,” Steve countered in a hard voice. “Unless he joined Hydra willingly.”

“We won’t know that until we can break his brainwashing.”

Steve nodded grimly.

“I’m going to try to release him from the passive state,” she warned. “I have no idea how he’ll react.”

Loki cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should disarm him first?”

“I’ll let you handle that,” Fury said from the observation window.

With a nod at the window and a nod at Steve, Loki approached the assassin and let his nimble fingers dance over his body. The obvious weapons had been removed, but he plucked out a number of small objects and tucked them into a subspace pocket - knives, garroting wires, small explosives, and the like.

“Who has the Asgardian shackles?” Loki asked, standing behind the man.

“I do,” answered Natasha. “They’re in my room.”

“In that case, I withdraw my unvoiced offer to fetch them,” he teased. “Would you like to join the Director in the observation window, for safety?”

Although she glanced at it, she shook her head. “Not that I don’t think you boys can’t handle it, but I’d rather stay here.”

Steve nodded again. “Alright. Do it.”

Flipping through a worn book with a red cover, Natasha cleared her throat and snapped out a series of Russian words that seemed to be code rather than command. When the last one had left her lips, she backed up out of the man’s reach, back pressed against the rubber wall.

Nothing happened.

The man shifted slightly, and Steve’s eyes darted back and forth, presumably reflecting the assassin’s eyes. The man’s breathing quickened. He turned his head, panicky glances at Loki and Natasha, and they took unthreatening stances and edged towards Steve so the man didn’t feel surrounded. Still he looked around, seeking a door, a window, any method of escape - but of course there was none. Nearly hyperventilating now, he pulled the mask away from his face-

“Bucky?”

Every eye went to Steve, but he was looking at the man who stared back in suspicious confusion.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“You are,” Steve said gently. “I thought you were dead. What happened?” he asked, but it was Loki he was looking at.

Pale eyes fluttered closed as Loki called upon the Odinsight. How did this man survive?

“Ah,” he breathed as information flowed in. “They experimented on him before he was rescued. Although his strength had not yet manifested, he was already...durable. He was badly wounded, but he survived the fall from the train.”

Bucky glanced at Natasha. [I don’t understand,] he said in Russian. [Where am I?]

[Safe,] she answered. [I know it’s confusing, but you’re safe now.]

[I don’t feel safe,] he said, clearly fighting a panic attack. [I want to get out. LET ME OUT!]

Frantic now, he hurled himself at the wall under the observation window, but his fingers - even the metal ones - could not find purchase on the dense rubber. After a few moments he sank down to the gently-curved floor, curled in on himself and shaking. Loki murmured a cantrip, and the panic smoothed out into magical slumber.

“I recommend sedation,” Loki announced dryly.

From above, Fury’s voice. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck just happened?”

Natasha gestured helplessly. “Apparently, they know him.”

“This is James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said quietly. “First thing I did as Captain America was rescue him from Hydra. I thought I’d lost him; maybe I still have.”

“We’ll take good care of him,” Fury promised. “Bring him to medical - we’ll get him sedated and check him over. See if we can figure out what they did to him.”

 ===

 “Has he said anything?” Steve asked somberly, eyes on the still figure inside the padded room.

Although medical had checked Bucky over, all they could say without analyzing the data was that he was in good health. He had been dressed in plain white clothes and put in a padded room to let the sedatives wear off and see what his mental state was like when he woke up, but he’d only curled into a ball in the far corner and not responded to any of the doctors.

“Natasha came by earlier,” Loki answered. “She asked how he was feeling. He said his thoughts were all jumbled together.”

Steve sighed. “I hate this. I don’t know if he’s even still in there.”

Pale eyes rested on the huddled figure in the corner. “Neither does he.”

Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. “Yeah. I can’t imagine what that’s like, not remembering who you are. Can your magic help at all?”

Loki shook his head. “Healing stones and cantrips are no good for curing what ails the mind, only mending the flesh. Give him time; it’s very likely that he will sort his memories out himself.”

“If they’re even still there.”

“The mind is a more durable thing than you give it credit for,” Loki said gently. “What seems to be lost is usually only hidden.”

For a long moment, Steve seemed to be on the verge of protesting, but he only sighed. “You know...I never thought someone ten times my age would be so...relatable. Every time I think that no one can possibly understand what it feels like to be adrift in a world so different from the one they remember, I think about how you placed the Tesseract in that church centuries ago. You watched me put that plane in the water. You watched Red Skull get zapped to who-knows-where. You watched Bucky fall. I’m not alone.”

“You are not alone,” Loki agreed, the rest of his words shocked out of him as the other man turned and engulfed him in a strong, tight, warm hug. Gingerly, blinking back tears, he hugged back.

“I don’t hold with any of that macho-man toxicity,” Steve said when he finally let the slender Asgardian go. “I don’t care what emotional stunting Asgard requires of its warriors. Real men aren’t afraid to hug. And anyway, aren’t you freed from Asgardian custom because Stark handed you your ass and dragged you back?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “I am. Thank you. No doubt I will shock the masses when I finally return to Asgard, but...” He shrugged. “To turn my back on my own nature would be an act of deepest dishonor at this point. They will simply have to accept that as a half-Jotun, I am different in many ways.”

“Good,” Steve said warmly.

Why does he watch?

The Odinsight whisper came from inside the padded room; a glance showed that Bucky was watching them, one wary eye peering through the fall of unruly dark hair.

“How long have you been here today?” Loki asked casually. “Have you eaten?”

Steve grimaced. “No, and I probably should, it’s just...” His eyes slipped to the window. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky. I watched him fall. I can’t help but think that if only I’d jumped after him, I could have found him. Brought him back with me. Saved him from everything that happened to him. Even if he doesn’t remember me, even if he never remembers me...he’s my friend. I keep hoping-” He sighed. “I just wish I could help him somehow.”

Oh, whispered Bucky’s heart.

“Shall I bring you something to eat, then?”

Steve flashed him a self-depreciating smile. “I wouldn’t say no to some pizza. Probably the only way I’ll remember to eat today, honestly.”

Loki smiled back, long fingers dancing over the surface of his StarkPhone. “If I were to hazard a guess...is this your favorite pizza parlor?”

He held the phone up, and Steve started laughing.

“That’s the one,” he chuckled. “Glad I didn’t put any money on that. How did you...?”

“The oldest pizza parlor in your old neighborhood,” Loki said smugly.

For a long moment, Steve threw his head back as though begging for patience from the Almighty. “I should have known,” he said with good-natured resignation. “Meatball special, please, and Loki? Thanks.”

“You are very welcome,” Loki said softly. “I will return soon.”

The pizza was ready by the time he arrived, and he shamelessly abused a nearby reflection to make the return trip in no time at all. Then, pleading a business meeting, he took his leave of the two long-separated friends and retreated to his office in Stark Tower to scry on them.

The first thing Steve did was rip the lid off the box. Half the pizza went onto this improvised plate and slowly, he entered the padded room to set it in the middle of the floor and retreat. Bucky had ignored the meals provided by the staff, but once the door was closed again he crept out from his corner to drag the lid back with him. Then, hesitantly, watching his benefactor eat through the window, he picked up a slice and nibbled on it.

“How’s the Manchurian Candidate?” Tony Stark asked, having managed to creep into the room unnoticed.

Loki stepped back up to the runed mirror, banishing the illusion he’d reflexively left there when his Eternal Companion had startled him. “Eating,” he said dryly. “So far he has responded verbally only to Natasha, and only when asked a direct question. I doubt he’s realized that the controls are gone, and that he is free. My estimate is three days before he starts relaxing enough to access his repressed memories.”

“You mean his time before Hydra,” Tony corrected, a note of doubt in his voice.

Loki shook his head. “When Natasha released him, he did not seem to remember entering my cell. I believe that his handlers created an alternate personality in him, one who carries out orders and - if they had any shred of wisdom about them - was returned to a blank slate following each mission. No persistent memory means no chance for resentment to build and their weapon to turn on them.”

“But memories can’t just be wiped out,” protested Tony. “Repressed, yes, but not destroyed. Oh,” he added, as it sank in that Bucky would soon be remembering the horrors he’d committed. “Oh. Shit.”

“Even though he was arguably not the one who took those actions, and did not perform them of his own free will in any case, he will remember them all the same.”

“And I thought I had issues,” he muttered, looking away from Loki’s scrying mirror. “Alright, Reindeer Games, keep me in the loop. Let me know if there’s anything money or connections can help with.”

“You have my word,” Loki promised.

In the mirror, Bucky was eating pizza like it would bring him all the comfort he craved.

 ===

 That night, he was moved to an “observation room” composed of a public area and a mostly-walled-off sleeping area with sanitary facilities, thick glass allowing observation of the bed. The public area held a table, chairs, and a small cubby with art supplies: crayons and markers, coloring books and blank paper, and assorted colors of modeling clay. Bucky followed the orderlies as though they were armed guards, his expression reflecting the broken hopelessness of someone who has learned that resistance only brings pain. When they closed the door behind him, he went straight for the bed and curled up with his back to the observation windows.

Morning brought food, but he ignored it until Natasha entered and greeted him in Russian.

[The man who watched me yesterday,] he said, not looking at her as he ate cold cereal, [he said he knew me. But I don’t remember him.]

[There are many things you don’t remember,] she told him. [But you will. In time.]

Steve was there almost as soon as Natasha left, although Bucky had gone back to curling up in bed. He watched for a while before knocking gently on the glass. “May I come in?” he asked when Bucky turned to look at him.

A shrug was all the answer he got.

He entered the room slowly and sat at the table with a pad and some crayons. Eventually, the gently relentless scratching drew Bucky out to sit across from him and watch as he transformed the empty white sheet into a scene of children playing in the snow. When that picture was completed, Steve started another and Bucky picked up a crayon of his own, doodling geometric shapes on a blank sheet of paper.

They colored in silence for a handful of minutes before he said, “I’m not your friend,” in a rusty-sounding voice. “I don’t know who you are.”

“That’s fine,” Steve replied calmly. “You don’t have to. You don’t remember who you are yet, either, do you?”

Bucky frowned at his drawing. “No.”

“Then I won’t tell you anything about either of us, and when you remember who you are and who I am, then you can decide if you’re my friend or not.”

The crayon trembled in Bucky’s hand. “Thank you.”

 ===

 Natasha visited him after dinner and found him holding one of the drawings Steve had made.

[Am I a prisoner?] asked Bucky, not lifting his eyes.

She sat across from him and looked at the drawings scattered on the table. [No.]

[Then why am I being kept here?]

[To make sure you’re safe while you sort everything out .]

One metal finger traced the crayon lines of a drawn face. [Do you know me?]

The Russian-born assassin was quiet for a long moment.

[Not like he does.]

 ===

 Although Bucky’s sleep was less than peaceful that night, and the next night, it wasn’t until the third that he woke up shouting, metal hand digging fistfuls out of the wall. He calmed quickly once he realized he was awake, and the staff did not sedate him. Breakfast arrived, but he ignored it. As was her pattern, Natasha arrived soon after, but he stayed huddled on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees and face turned to the wall. No matter what she said to him, he didn’t respond and she left him in the same unhappy silence as when she’d arrived.

As was his pattern, Steve arrived later and knocked on the window, but Bucky didn’t look at him. When he asked for permission to enter, Bucky moved for the first time and gave the same halfhearted shrug he’d given the first day. Although Steve looked greatly concerned, he sat at the table as usual and started coloring in one of the books without saying anything.

He’d almost forgotten Bucky was there when that bleeding, rusty voice said, “Steve.”

The crayon stopped. Resisting the urge to look up, Steve asked, “You remember me?”

“Some.”

In a gentle voice, he said, “Sounds like you remembered other things, too.”

“Yeah.”

The crayon started moving again. “If you want to talk about any of it, I’m here.”

 It was almost an hour before Bucky shifted on the bed and slowly, slowly, left it to sit at the table and poke the now-cold breakfast waiting for him.

“I’m afraid,” he said quietly.

Steve put the crayon down, frowning. “Of what?”

“Me.”

“Because of the things they made you do,” he said, the words not quite a question.

Bucky shook his head. “Because they made me do them.”

“I can see where that would be pretty scary.” Steve thought for a minute, heart breaking at the sight of his best friend hunched over, not looking at him, craving comfort and closeness but cringing away from it at the same time. “What would make you feel safe?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Natasha-” The rest of the sentence died as Bucky flinched away. “Okay, not Natasha. Why?”

“She knows the words,” Bucky said in a rusty whisper.

“You’re afraid that she could make you do...things.”

He nodded.

“Bucky...how much do you remember? Enough to trust me?”

“Trust you.” He looked up briefly, then shuddered away from Steve’s thoughtful frown. “Not her.”

“She brought you in, Bucky. She could have killed you, but she saw that you were a victim and she brought you here to help you.”

“Where is here?”

Slowly, Steve said, “Do you remember Peggy?”

Bucky shook his head.

“What about Howard Stark?”

The name caused Bucky to recoil and nearly fall as he staggered away from the table, chair tipping over. With both hands pressed to his head he retreated blindly until he hit a wall and then sat, shaking his head back and forth and muttering incoherent protests that grew in volume and urgency until he began pounding his head against the wall and digging handfuls of it out with his metal fist. Steve rushed over to try to restrain him, only to find himself warding that arm off as it went for his throat. Calling his friend’s name got no reaction, and when Bucky looked at him, it was the assassin staring out of his eyes.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, Bucky slumped over and Steve realized they were not alone.

“Well,” Loki said, crouching down beside them, “that was....exciting.”

Steve slumped against the wall in relief. “How did you-? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Thanks.”

“You are very welcome, but this presents quite a thorny situation.” The Asgardian frowned as he straightened Bucky’s unconscious body. “He will remember not only the flashback, but that he tried to attack you. To wake up in this room again will only make him feel that the threat he presents is not being taken seriously, but having him wake up in a more secure location will strengthen the idea that he is a threat and should not be trusted.”

“Why would he have a reaction like that to the name Howard Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“I can only presume that he was ordered to kill the man,” Loki answered with a frown of his own, “but the deaths of Tony’s parents were reported to be accidental.”

“So, what? SHIELD’s been covering up that they were murdered by Hydra? Tony’s not going to take that well.”

“I will speak with Fury,” Loki said. “However, in the meantime...”

Steve sighed. “In the meantime, what do we do with Bucky?”

 ===

 Fury looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Is there a reason you’re holding a pizza party in your cell?” he demanded, glaring at the security feed. In Loki’s deep containment cell, a blanket-swaddled Bucky was sitting propped up against the wall, being fed pizza by the friend he only partially remembered.

Loki pulled a pizza box out of nowhere and set it on the Director’s desk. “I saved you some this time.”

Fury massaged his temple.

“Perhaps you were aware that Bucky had a traumatic experience in his sleep,” Loki continued crisply. “While talking to Steve Rogers, he apparently suffered a flashback that turned into attempted assault before I stepped in. He has expressed a very valid fear of himself, and we wanted to communicate that we were taking that seriously.”

“By transferring him to your cell.” Fury sounded unconvinced. “While wrapped in a warm, fluffy blanket.”

“Under the blanket, the Asgardian shackles are binding his wrists in front of him. He is secure and comfortable, in a place he knows he cannot escape.”

“With pizza.” Fury sighed. “Fine. I understand why you did it, and I agree with your reasoning. Thank you for the pizza, by he way,” he added, pulling a slice out of the box and taking a bite. “Now. Why are you here, in my office, and not smiling?”

Loki took out a slice of pizza and nibbled it thoughtfully. “Howard Stark was one of SHIELD’s co-founders,” he began slowly. “I imagine if there were anything suspicious about his death, you would feel the need to cover that up.”

Fury’s glower returned. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“Neither will Tony, when he inevitably finds out. Have you made plans for that?”

Instead of answering, Fury ate his piece of pizza and then claimed a second one. “To be honest, the reason I haven’t told him is because I have nothing to tell him. The only evidence that it wasn’t an accident was circumstantial and impossible to prove. You know how Stark would react if he found that out.”

It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t have to be. Loki knew all too well that his Eternal Companion would go on a wild goose chase, all his self-doubt and guilt turned outward in mindless rage.

“Please tell me you brought up the subject of Howard Stark for some obscure, trivial reason,” Fury said in something that was too dignified to be called pleading.

“His name is what triggered Bucky’s flashback,” Loki said grimly.

Fury covered his face with both hands and let out a quiet but heartfelt stream of cursing.

“I will speak with Tony,” Loki said quietly. “I only wanted to know if there was more to the story before I did.”

“Thank you.” The words were solemn and heavy. “I think this is another one we owe you, Loki.”

Loki smiled thinly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Just doing my part.”

“Bullshit. You’re going above and beyond again, and don’t think I won’t tell your old man.”

The protest died unvoiced on Loki’s lips.

“Good,” Fury said, somehow managing to make the praise sound intimidating. “In this organization, we respect and appreciate our sneaky little weasels and recognize when they go above and beyond what’s expected of them. Go talk to Stark; I’ll keep an eye on your room for you. And Loki...thanks for the pizza,” he finished with a small but warm smile.

Loki smiled back, and this time it did reach his pale eyes. “Thank you.”

 ===

 Tony barely glanced up from the project he was tinkering with when Loki stepped out of a mirror. “Hey, Bluebell. How’s the Displaced Duo?”

Loki leaned against a counter, arms crossed. “I was right. The repressed memories started coming back today.”

“Oh yeah?” Something sparked and Tony leaned back, protective goggles pushed up to his forehead. “What happened?”

“He took handfuls out of the walls in the throes of a nightmare,” was the dry answer. “He refused to acknowledge Natasha’s presence-”

“Whoah. She was the only one he would talk to, past the occasional word to Steve. Why the change?”

“Probably because he remembered that his handlers gave him commands in Russian, and he was no longer comfortable with the language.”

Tony turned back to his project. “I assume Steve stopped by. He get any reaction?”

“Some,” Loki started slowly. “Bucky asked where he was. In attempting to begin to describe SHIELD, Steve uttered your father’s name. That triggered a flashback, one violent enough that Steve feared for Bucky’s safety, but when he attempted to restrain his friend...”

“He got attacked,” Tony finished grimly. “I can relate. Even if you hadn’t talked me out of the neural interface plans by demonstrating how someone with magic could use them to hijack my body, there’s been more than a couple nights where Pepper tries to wake me up out of a nightmare and I nearly attack her. So what happened?”

Loki shrugged. “I put him to sleep and borrowed the Asgardian shackles from Natasha. We wrapped him in a warm blanket and I transported them to my cell, then delivered pizza. Bucky is calm, knowing that he is contained and cannot hurt anyone. He is comfortable, and he is assured that he has not driven away the only person he trusts in any way.”

Again, Tony turned to study Loki. “That cell really makes you feel comfortable?”

Pale eyes slid away from concerned dark ones. “I don’t need it so much anymore, but when I was technically an enemy of Earth, it was...nice...knowing that I had somewhere to go where I would be safe and no one would look for me, but where Director Fury would know that I was causing no trouble. That if I needed help, I could get it without questions or explanations.”

Tony made a small, disgruntled sound. “How far back did Fury know you weren’t actually a threat to Earth?”

Loki looked up and smiled, the expression a surrender rather than a reassurance. “When I first set foot in one of his bases, fired at him, and missed.”

“That far back.” Tony whistled. “And when did you know you could trust him, rather than playing cloak-and-dagger?”

“Shortly before the ice monster stunt.”

“And Darcy, she was your first friend here. Only friend? Sheesh. No wonder you felt safe in that oubliette Fury built for you. I remember barricading my lab in that cave as much as I could.” He ran his hands down his face. “Don’t want to think about if I’d been in enemy territory as long as you were.”

“Or if you’d been held by more clever captors, and forced to attack others against your will?”

Tony shuddered. “Yeah.” There was a pause while he put the pieces together, and he gave Loki a piercing look. “Wait, are you telling me...?”

“Bucky would have known your father in his youth,” Loki said quietly. “If he remembers that...if he was ordered, forced against his will to kill a man he considered a friend...”

The angry protest Tony was about to make died in his mouth.

“...then he is already in a hell not of his own making, and simply leaving him alive to remember that is a punishment far greater than any physical pain that could be inflicted on him.”

He didn’t have to say the name Yinsen; the agonized look on Tony’s face as he swallowed was proof that the man’s death still weighed heavily on his mind.

“Alright,” Tony said after a long and painful minute. “I...need to think about this. Shit. Shit.” He turned a slow circle, hands in his hair. “Fuck. Now I’m wondering if my dad recognized him. If my dad’s last thoughts were that not only did Barnes survive, but he was an assassin. That he was going to die at the hands of a man who should have been dead, a man who should have been a friend. I’m imagining Yinsen brought back to life by Hydra and being sent to kill me forty years from now, oh god, what the hell.”

“Shall I ask Natasha where she found him, in case there are survivors to punish?” Loki asked dryly.

“No.” Tony covered his face with both hands, breathing heavily. “No punishment. No more death. I gotta...I gotta work on something. Get me schematics of his arm. I’ll build him a replacement. An arm that wasn’t used to kill people. A symbol that he’s free. Shit.”

Paws on his leg made him look down to discover that Loki had turned into a white fox with black tips to his ears and tail and the distinctive green eyes that were his signature when he assumed another form. Without a word Tony sank to the floor and gathered the fox into his arms, hugging it tightly while the storm of emotions swept through him.

If he wept, Loki would take that secret to his grave.

 ===

 “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Loki said smoothly as he stepped out of nowhere to join Steve and the blanket-swaddled Bucky in his cell.

Bucky stared.

“Hey, Loki.” Steve offered him a forearm, and they shared a warrior’s clasp. “What brings you here? I mean, aside from the fact that we’re in your space.”

“We’re in his space?” Bucky murmured to Steve, not taking his eyes off the well-dressed man who had appeared out of nowhere.

“I used to be considered an enemy,” Loki said as he sat near the confused assassin. “This cell was built for me, ostensibly to contain me.” He admired it with a fond smile. “In reality, it was built as a space in which I could feel secure. Somewhere I could go when I needed to be alone, or when I needed help. It was built to withstand beings of enhanced strength, like yourself, and thoroughly impossible to escape - unless you happen to possess magic, as I do. After your flashback this morning,” he said gently, “I thought you might appreciate its security.”

Bucky lowered his eyes. “Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “Thanks.”

“We’ve been talking,” Steve offered into the silence. “About what he remembers. Missions.”

“People I killed,” Bucky corrected in a hopeless tone.

“People you were forced to kill,” countered Loki. “I have been talking with Tony.”

Steve stiffened.

“He is...quite sympathetic to your predicament,” Loki continued. “I have been asked to acquire schematics for your arm, so that he can build you a replacement.”

Bucky gave him a confused and suspicious look.

“An arm that has no ties to your captors,” he elaborated gently. “One that has not been used to kill.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The words were a dark, hopeless mutter. “Someone says the wrong thing, I’ll turn back into...that.”

Loki looked at Steve for an explanation.

“Turns out...it’s not that easy to turn off obedience mode,” Steve said slowly. “We didn’t actually turn it off or get rid of it. We just took our hands off the reins.”

“I see.” Loki frowned. “So the impulses are there, uncontrolled, and you fear they may lash out without warning.”

Bucky looked away.

“Already happened a couple of times,” Steve explained. “Obviously nothing happened, thanks to the cuffs.”

“Still, this presents quite the challenge.” Pale eyes examined Bucky thoughtfully. “I will need to research this. If I can understand how it was done, I may be able to determine how to dismantle it.”

Steve nodded. “We’ll leave that to you. Could you bring us to medical, though? Bucky wants to be more thoroughly restrained and maybe sedated.”

“Of course. Let me warn them to prepare the restraints, and then I will transport you there.”

“Thanks,” Bucky muttered, but the smile he gave was weak and wounded, and his eyes did not leave the floor.

 ===

 The next three days passed in uneventful tension. Loki scanned the metal arm and delivered schematics to Tony, Tony worked feverishly to duplicate and improve on it, and no one told Bucky who, exactly, “Tony” was. Bucky spent half his time sedated, with periods of wakefulness wherein Steve helped him eat and they talked quietly. Natasha visited briefly a few times, but retreated quickly out of respect for Bucky’s comfort levels.

Loki spent most of his time scrying, spying on the past and observing the processes used to build the controlling constructs and shape the Winter Soldier. He spoke with Natasha to confirm what he saw, then conferred with Bruce on potential methods for undoing them, and finally delivered his conclusions to Fury. The Director listened grimly, his dark eye never leaving Loki’s face, and at the end spoke only two words: “I concur.”

That night, he told Darcy everything he had discovered and the course of action Fury had approved. He explained what it would entail, going into details he had not shared with anyone else, and she held his head and firmly told him that he was the only one she was comfortable even thinking about being able to do that, because she knew he would never abuse it.

Still, he was somber when he walked into Bucky’s room in the medical wing, and Steve sobered instantly at seeing his expression.

“I have a solution,” he said softly, his voice a rustle of silk over steel, pale eyes locked on Bucky’s uncertain ones. “The Director has approved its use. It will root out and disable every speck of the brainwashing and subliminal command Hydra inflicted on you.”

Bucky swallowed. “What’s the cost?”

“I will see inside every corner of your mind. I will not do this unless you allow it,” he said firmly. “Regardless of my intentions, this is a violation of the most intimate nature and I would not even consider it if there were any other way.”

Steve opened his mouth, reconsidered, and closed it.

Bucky swallowed.

The moment stretched into a small eternity, three men frozen in silence.

“Well, hell,” Bucky said, voice shaking slightly, “you asked permission. That’s more than anyone else did before they went and fucked with my mind. Sure. Go ahead. Do it,” he said, swallowing fear and raising his chin slightly in defiance.

Steve cast his gaze between the other two, wrestling with the desire to say something, but only managed to utter Loki’s name.

“Yes and no,” Loki said, answering the question that had not made it past Steve’s lips. “I had no need to go so deeply, or to make changes. When I withdraw, I will do so completely and leave nothing behind.”

Reluctantly, Steve nodded. “I’ll just...take the breakfast dishes away,” he said. “Unless you want me to stay, Buck.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered to his friend for a bare moment. “If he did anything other than what he said he would, would you be able to stop him?”

There was an uncomfortable pause before Steve said, “No.”

“But you trust him to only do what he said.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

“Then so do I.”

“Alright, Buck. I’ll see you on the other side, then.”

The restraints Loki had brought from Asgard for medical emergencies kept Bucky from moving more than his head, but he nodded to Steve and the other man gathered dishes and left the room.

Loki summoned his armor. Not the white-and-green that was his Avengers attire, but the splendid green-and-gold he’d worn when he’d first arrived, the Chitauri Scepter held in one hand. “I swear to you,” he said quietly, raising the curved blade to set the point against Bucky’s heart, “you will feel no pain.”

The gem flared, and darkness flowed up to coat Bucky’s eyes.

 ===

 It was a long, complex business, sifting through Bucky’s mind for the embedded triggers. If he had not been tutored in the Scepter’s use...if he had not spent a thousand years honing his mind to maintain concentration in the midst of complex spellwork, if he had not held the reins of an entire army with his mind, this would have been impossible.

He did not drift through Bucky’s memories like a visitor in a foreign land, experiencing the sights and sounds. For the most part he saw the structure of the man’s mind as a pattern, and looked for the puckered, scarred sections that represented conditioning forced on him. Many of them could be undone, like ripping the stitching out of cloth and smoothing it out again, leaving only minimal damage to show that there had ever been interference. Others could be removed entirely, leaving rough blank patches where something had been, akin to the blankness of a repressed memory. But some...some were deeper perversions of Bucky’s mind, and they required more than just a simple alteration. But as he considered them, Loki realized that they were connected and they formed a much greater structure than he’d thought at first.

This, then, was the Winter Soldier.

Tendrils spread from the heart of the warped section to nearly every other part of Bucky’s mind, terminating in the minor triggers Loki had already neutralized. To remove it, root and branch, would destroy so much of the whole that Bucky would be left comatose. But at the same time, simply sealing the ends would risk creating a separate entity in his mind. Loki contemplated the structure, mapping it out, for a very long time.

Then he activated it.

With Bucky and the Winter Soldier now merged, he broke the sections that allowed the construct to be controlled verbally and then manually triggered the ‘passive’ command, leaving the Winter Soldier forever obedient to Bucky’s will. There would be no separation between the two: all of the Winter Soldier’s skills would be at Bucky’s command, but so too would all his memories. Bucky would awaken with the full knowledge of everything he had been forced to do, but no one would ever be able to control the Winter Soldier again.

Of course, touching the mind of another did result in some bleedover - flickers of memory played back as though they were Loki’s, but distant. A thousand brief glimpses of being tortured and restrained stung him as he worked, Russian commands being barked at him as he trained and fought and killed. By the time he was done, the memories of his own torture and imprisonment were scratching at his mind and when he finally withdrew, he was shaking.

On the reinforced medical bed, Bucky slept peacefully.

A whisper of magic touched his communicator. “It is done,” he said, the words nearly bleeding out of him to be delivered straight to Fury’s ear.

The Odinsight showed him Bruce Banner, working intently at a computer in his lab. It took only moments to find the path he’d traveled many times before and emerge in the lab as a white rabbit with green eyes and black-tipped ears. Usually, when he assumed this form, it was to present himself as a target for Bruce’s nerves, allowing himself to be petted absently as was the doctor’s habit with his lab rabbits, soothing tensions that could irritate the Hulk.

This time, it was for his own comfort, and Bruce said nothing as he took in the sight of the bunny he knew to be Loki. He had to have guessed that Loki needed the comfort of human touch, and given their conversation the day before he didn’t need to guess at the cause. He simply lifted one hand and reached, smiling softly as he found the rabbit under his fingertips, and began petting.

 ===

 “Banner, have you seen my Asgardian?”

Loki had no idea how long he’d sat there in a mindless daze, letting Bruce’s fingers soothe the thoughts out of his head.

“Do you mean recently, or...?”

“Yeah, I just finished a new arm for our new friend and I want to know if he’s ready for visitors or if I should shower and go sleep and drop by in the morning.”

“Morning,” murmured Loki.

Bruce started briefly, unaccustomed to his therapy rabbit talking. “Uh...Tony...how long has it been since you slept?”

“I dunno. JARVIS, how long have I been working on this?”

“It has been fifty-six hours since you entered the lab.”

“Jesus, Tony, go sleep.” Although his tone was chiding, Bruce’s expression was one of holding back laughter.

“Okay, fine. Shower, sleep, maybe something to eat, and I’ll stop by in the morning. And if you see Loki, make sure he’s okay? Darcy says he’s not answering his texts.”

“Will do,” Bruce promised. When the call ended, he looked down at the rabbit.

“I’ll go see her,” Loki said quietly. “Thank you.”

Bruce stroked his fur one last time. “Hey, man, you’ve been there for me. You okay?”

“I am now.” Loki hopped down and resumed his own shape. “Bucky’s memories touched a bit to close to my memories of the Chitauri.”

“It worked, then?”

He nodded.

“Then you deserve a night off. Go see your girlfriend,” Bruce teased.

Loki smiled weakly. “I’m going, I’m going.”

He went.

 ===

 “You’re telling me Loki used the scepter to take out the brainwashing?” Natasha sounded one breath away from attacking the Asgardian. “The alien scepter he used to brainwash Clint and Erik Selvig?”

“With Bucky’s permission,” Steve pointed out. “And Fury’s. I don’t know that I like it, but it wasn’t my choice.”

She massaged her temples. “Okay. So. He did...that. How’s Bucky?”

“Apparently he had nightmares all night,” Steve said uneasily, “but he says Loki was successful.”

“Then why is he asking for me and the book?”

“He wants proof,” Steve told her solemnly. “He wants you to say the words.”

The Russian word - words? - that slipped out out of her mouth were, he was fairly sure, an obscenity. “I can’t blame him,” she sighed. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Bucky was still restrained on the bed, but he watched intently as Steve led Natasha into the room. There was something simmering in his eyes, something wild and slightly crazed, but she couldn’t tell if it was insanity or just desperation for freedom.

“Say the words,” he rasped once the door had closed behind them. “I need to know.”

Natasha nodded and flipped the book open to the proper page. She’d memorized them, of course, but there could be no room for mistake - not with something like this.

“[Longing.]” she said in Russian. “[Rusted. Furnace.]”

On the bed, Bucky stiffened, but with well-conditioned apprehension rather than in reaction to the words. They wouldn’t take effect until the last one was uttered.

“[Daybreak. Seventeen. Benign. Nine.]”

Steve stiffened too, eyes glued to Bucky.

“[Homecoming. One.]” Natasha paused, meeting Bucky’s frantic eyes. “[Freight car.]”

“[Go fuck yourself,]” Bucky spat. Then he paused. Relief spread across his face, and he laughed in a decidedly unhinged manner.

“Tell me it worked,” Steve said dryly as Bucky laughed.

Natasha snorted. “It worked. Or rather, Loki’s anti-brainwashing worked in that the words didn’t work.”

“Good!” Steve clapped his hands. “Let’s get him out of those restraints.”

Working together, they managed to free Bucky by the time his laugher had faded, and for a handful of minutes they just sat on the bed in a messy group hug.

Naturally, that’s when Tony walked in with a bulky suitcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Bucky froze. “Howard?”

Before anyone could react, he had both hands to the sides of his head and was making pained sounds.

“Uh...” Tony froze where he was.

“I killed him,” Bucky whimpered. “I killed him, Steve! I’m a monster...”

“You’re not a monster,” Steve insisted, and almost at the same time, Tony declared, “That wasn’t you.”

Bucky stilled in surprise. “What?”

“That wasn’t you,” Tony repeated. “Look. I’ve got a lot of shit to sort out with regards to my dad without even getting to his death, and that’s had an impact on how I see your buddy,” he said, pointing to Steve with his chin. “But I’ve yet to find a flaw in Steve’s morals, and he’s been pretty firm in his support of you, so I can say in complete honesty that I don’t believe for a second that you would have killed my old man of your own free will. So whatever series of events led to that? It wasn’t you.”

He stopped and looked away, breathing heavily and blinking.

“Hydra killed my parents,” he said quietly, still not looking at the three on the bed. “Hydra killed my parents, and I’m gonna hunt them down and cut off heads with flaming arrows until there’s no more heads left, but I could use a hand doing that.” The front of the case retracted, showing off the gleaming metal arm inside and the lack of ornamentation or design on its shoulder. “And you, I think, could could use...a hand.”

Slowly, Bucky freed himself from the other two and got unsteadily to his feet. Half a week being restrained in bed made his legs shaky, but he made his careful way across the small room to throw his arms around the startled form of Tony Stark and hug him.

“Howard would be proud of you,” Bucky whispered through tears.

Awkwardly, Tony brought his arms up around the other man, only to find himself relieved of his burdens so that he could return the hug. “I’ll...take your word for that,” he replied hesitantly. “So...is that a yes on the arm?”

Bucky laughed shakily. “Sure. I’ll let you give me a hand.”

 ===

 Loki strode into Fury’s office with a reassuring level of cheeky nonchalance, telling the director without words that his emotional state was healthy and stable once again. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did.” Fury pulled a fancy box, flat and square, out of the desk drawer where he kept the imported chocolates he used to reward Loki. “You did good, Odinson,” he said as he set the box on the surface of his desk and nudged it towards the now-quiet Asgardian. Loki still wasn’t used to being praised for excelling, and it made Fury’s jaw clench.

“I am not familiar with this confectioner,” Loki said slowly, pulling at the gold ribbon  and lifting off the lid which, like the box, had been hand-marbled in a warm, pale orange.

There were no chocolates inside the box. Instead, it held a fanciful tart that smelled of pears, almonds, and honey. Loki’s breath caught, and he froze.

“I warned you,” Fury said with mock sternness. “I warned you that I’d tell your old man. Apparently he thinks you did good, too.”

Loki looked up, tears standing in his pale eyes. “My father sent this?”

“It came from Asgard. That’s all I know.”

Reverently, Loki replaced the lid and re-tied the ribbon.

“Looks like someone finally realized that cleverness deserves to be rewarded every bit as much as bravery,” Fury said gently. “I’m glad. They might actually be worthy of you by the time you go back.”

Eyes still on his prize, Loki chuckled softly. “We shall see. And if they are not, well, I do owe a debt to Jotunheim. I can always spend a few decades with my other people and see if Asgard has learned when I return.”

Fury smiled. “Good plan. We’re moving Barnes into the Avengers’ wing. It’s going to take him a bit to adjust, but I suspect that between you and Rogers, he’ll be just fine.”

“And Tony,” Loki added, smiling faintly back. “And Natasha.”

“And bring Agent Lewis up, too,” Fury added. “Make than man laugh again.”

“I’ll do that,” promised Loki, gathering the precious box carefully into his hands.

“Good.” Fury’s expression dropped back into his habitual scowl. “Now get out of here; I’ve got work to do.”

Laughing, Loki vanished.